prophylaxis
by euludey
Summary: If a game is rigged in favor of both sides, would the scales be balanced then? Set during P5, has content from all games. Includes Royal content. There is some romance, but it's not the main focus. Rating is subject to change. Unreliable narration and non-linearity. Some relationships/tags will be hidden for plot reasons.
1. I - Predawn

"_Man lives consciously for himself, but is an unconscious instrument in the attainment of the historic, universal, aims of humanity."  
_— _Leo Tolstoy_

* * *

**October 2nd**

Akira didn't quite know what he's looking at.

Beyond the warped valley of metal was an angel who had lost his wings. Pure ivory flesh glistening in the distorted light of the sky, bare as the day he was born, the figure plummeted to the depths of Purgatory like a son cast out by his father.

Akira's eyes met those of pale cobalt for a split second before the midnight blue of their hair swept them from view and the darkness of humanity's cognitive world swallowed him whole.

And suddenly his mind went blank.

A white noise had filled his head. The ground vanished beneath him. The sky, a putrid, revolting green.

He couldn't think at all, moved a single muscle at all, couldn't see anything at all but those eyes.

Those eyes had stared into his soul and it felt like their image had been seared into his very being, eternal and haunting.

Back then he didn't understand why, but he had suddenly felt like the world had shifted on its axis. Even now he doesn't, not completely at least. Even after all this time. But he is certain that this was the starting point. Where everything began.

Or perhaps not. He doesn't know and doesn't think he will ever know.

In the back of his mind, a pounding headache had formed as Arsene clawed his way through his consciousness hard enough to jolt him out of his daze.

He's still standing at the entrance of Mementos. Nothing had happened. The floor was beneath him. There's nothing in the blue sky.

He broke out of his stupor with a deep breath. Sweat forming on his skin, he turned his head quickly in an effort to recompose himself, but he's not fast enough.

His hands were shaking and-

"Akira? Is something wrong?" Makoto asked, her voice tinged with a touch of concern. He opened his mouth, but out of the corner of his eye, Akira could see Futaba glance at him from where she sat up in Prometheus and Ryuji divert his attention from a ranting Ann.

He swallowed thickly.

"No, it's nothing," he said dismissively. She gave him a look, like she's tempted to arch her eyebrow and say "_is that so_?" Akira in turn decided to ignore that and straightened himself up a bit. Voice shaking ever so slightly, he asked her in a deliberate change of subject, "What's the status?"

He stretched his usual cocky grin across his face, but it's a little too tight; a little too fake so it's not exactly surprising when Makoto didn't seem quite convinced and eyed him a little more. She held him under her gaze and Akira forced himself to hold still, but after a full minute under her stare, she let the subject drop.

She begins briefing him about the members and the progress they've each made, but there's a pinched look to her face, and a look in her eyes told him that this'll definitely be brought back up at a later time.

—ζ—

However he had managed to think that he'd forget the incident with ease was beyond him, as it's obvious that despite his best efforts to focus, that's not going to happen anytime soon. Likely not with any ease either. Worse, it _shows_. Whatever doubts his friends may have had before must be gone now.

"Gah!"

Akira's sent flying backwards as a Mind Slice strikes him head on. His back collided harshly with the wall. For all that the walls look like something straight out of Resident Evil or Silent Hill or something, to Akira it felt like concrete.

"Akira!" Ann's temporarily distracted by her worry and only barely manages to dodge their opponent's incoming attack. She means to run over to him, but great as her speed was, she's cut off by another attack.

She clicked her tongue in irritation as she stumbles back and was forced into a defensive position. On Akira's other side, however, Mona made use of the bought time to throw a Diarama at him.

As the spell's healing effects soothes the sting of his wounds, Akira shook his head in yet another attempt to just _focus_. He pulls himself up with a grunt and launches himself back beside his friends, switching out his persona for another in order to remedy his last persona's weakness to Slash.

The battle drew to a close quickly after that as the Rakshasa was beaten down. Akira's focus seemed to have made a comeback, but the reasons were all wrong.

He just wanted to get that goddamned image out of his mind.

It's as if with every blow he lands, he's battering away at those unwanted thoughts and memories.

Akira's breath had run out at the end of the battle but even with his heart beating hard, adrenaline keeps the exhaustion at bay.

He may have had gone harder than usual on the shadow.

He _may_ have had.

Once again, Akira hoped he wasn't as transparent as he felt he was, but that's just his luck; his friends were sending him worried looked despite not being completely recovered themselves. If they hadn't bought his story before, they definitely didn't now, if their expressions were anything to go by.

Their eyes only add to his growing unease and he clammed up.

In an almost pretentiously graceful swoop, Akira quickly pocketed the High Counter card the shadow had dropped and fled.

Yeah okay no, he's not doing this. Nope.

Call it cowardice, but Akira's not going to talk or even think about it; the sight of somebody falling, as strange as it might be, really should not be bothering him like this. Something that unnecessary wasn't worth being brought up and hindering their progress. It's his to deal with quickly and smoothly, not another burden that he could just up and plop onto the laps of his friends, who've been stressed enough with Okumura's Palace.

But that's apparently not his choice to make, and he's caught on the shoulder before he could run down the hall. The hand turned him around and Akira's put face to face with Ryuji.

"Hey 'Kira? Are you okay man?" Ryuji asked, concern apparent in his voice. Akira gapes at him for a second like a fish out of water and barely manages to keep the stutter out of his voice.

"... Yeah," he choked out. His breath was caught in the throat suddenly, and very carefully, he let it out as he slipped out of Ryuji's grip.

"Okay."

"Okay," Akira repeated, "But I don't really want to talk right now."

Not about that, no, he added in his head.

Ryuji's face got that same pinched quality Makoto had, which was a strange look that Akira would find amusing if he was in any other situation, but nevertheless still looked a lot like he wants to just grab Akira by the shoulders and shake some sense into him.

Akira doesn't give him the chance to do so however. By the time his friend's mouth had opened, he's already turned away.

The others pretended like they haven't been watching their exchange the entire time, but if he's to be frank, all of them are quite terrible at acting, especially when in front of someone who knows them so well. They've only been together for almost a year but they knew each other's personalities like the back of their hands.

And that probably includes him too, because he could act all he wants but it doesn't change the fact that they've seen the parts of him that he's shown only to a select few before, a select few that had left him hurting.

(How easily they had turned their back on you after the Incident.)

If he's to be honest, he's scared.

Very much so.

Morgana's transformed back into the Bus, and the others appeared to have patched themselves up. It's open and almost normal, but the tension building by the second was thick enough that Akira could cut it with a knife. This stage he's walking on didn't feel any less comfortable despite his friends' attempts.

Hurriedly, Akira climbed into the driver's seat, red gloved hands grasping the steering wheel as his friends clamber into the Bus after him. That feeling of being watched intently returned, the hair on the back of his head prickling as they head down towards Adyeshach. He could practically feel their questioning looked boring into his skull as they shared glances with each other in silent conversation.

"Akira," he heard someone call.

The leather of his gloves grinded against the wheel.

There's shifting in the back as someone shuffles forward. He could feel the heat of their hand radiating through his layers of clothing, but their palm never made contact. They repeat, "Akira," but the attempted assertiveness in their voice wasn't nearly as convincing as the hovering hand.

He's somewhat intent to continue ignoring the issue at hand, but if there's anything that he was truly soft for, it would probably be this group of people. When did he pick up this ragtag group of endearingly annoying friends? Akira remembers vaguely promising himself not to get attached to anyone here, but look how that turned out. He's surprisingly happy among this bunch.

The fear in his gut coils tighter.

His black eyes flickered to the rear view mirror, focus fixated on the pale hand encroaching on his shoulder. A shining beacon amongst the harrowing fact that it's lingering even now eases this fear slightly, its presence almost assuring.

(Would you have ever done this for me, Watanabe-kun?)

A blink and that murky darkness dissipates. Futaba's the one leaning forward with her hand outstretched but the others were all tense in a way that suggests that all Futaba, in that moment, was just the first responder.

Akira took a moment to contemplate this.

"I'm not okay," he finally admitted, the words flowing out in an unexpected spur of action.

"But it's nothing serious. I'm just..." He fumbled for the word, but they seem to understand so he doesn't elaborate on it. There's an understanding of trust between them as they wait for him to continue, their worries eased if only marginally of his willingness to speak.

"Look, I-" he hesitated, "...Do you trust me?"

There's a round of nodding and words of affirmation around the passenger seats and eyes that look at him and give too much.

"It really was too soon for me to explain," he heard himself say, "But I promise that I'll tell you."

His tongue felt like sandpaper.

—ζ—

When they finally returned to reality, it came to no surprise that night had descended. Time within the Metaverse was wonky, but autumn was finally settling in and it's not like time would just stop for whenever they left for humanity's unconscious. And to his pleasure, the hours they had spent exploring the new Path paid off, as they had covered most of the Areas and all of the requests had been completed.

He hated to admit it, but confessing that he was bothered did resolve the issue to some extent, even if the fix was temporary. Or perhaps the incident had simply faded from mind as the rush of battle and adrenaline overtook it.

All in all a productive evening.

Exhausted but content, Akira dragged his feet into Café Leblanc.

"You're home late again," Sojiro said from his place behind the counter. His hands moved with a steady calmness as they poured water into the familiar nel pot: a contrast to the gruff look he secures at his ward.

"...it's only 8."

"Yes," Sojiro agreed, "But the sun goes down earlier now that it's no longer summer."

The man continued sternly, "And it doesn't change the fact that you've been spending more and more time on your work."

His guardian set the kettle down with a light tap, but somehow the usually soft sound seemed unnaturally loud and harsh.

He's angry, Akira realized.

Not irritated or annoyed, but truly _angry,_ in a way he's never seen before.

Akira's strange feeling seemed to come back full force with awfully convenient timing, and suddenly he really does not want to be in this situation. His exhaustion suddenly weighs on him like an anchor, the satisfied hum that lingers under his skin after battle burning away much quicker than it usually would.

What was wrong with him?

Akira gave a shrug that he hoped came off as nonchalant and told him, "I'll try."

Sojiro's hands falter for a second.

"Akira-"

The sharpness of his tone was startling; he sounds so far from his usual soothingly calm self. But at the same time, logically, Akira knows that it's worry that dominates his caretaker's demeanor. Glasses or not, he could see fine, and the sight of rapidly rising liquid threatening to breach the rim of the pot told him everything.

But why doesn't it feel that way?

"Boss, the coffee," Akira said, the words heavy on his tongue. He could see the older man hurry to set down the kettle out of the corner of his eye as he heads towards the staircase.

"Don't try me."

The words were still somewhat clipped, but there's an edge of tiredness in it that halts his advance. His movements were suddenly none as he stood in the uncertain atmosphere of the room, slowly watching Sojiro finish the brew without so much as a suggestion that his grace had faltered.

The older man lets out a heavy sigh as he pours the liquid gold into Akira's ceramic cup, nudging it towards his ward. "You should take a break."

Resolutely, Akira unfroze himself from his position at the foot of the stairs and slowly settled down into a chair. He eyed the coffee for a beat, or two, just letting himself feel the wisps of heat dance around his nose, before he finally gave in and took a sip.

Blue Mountain.

"I can't," he mumbled into his drink. The bubbles tickled the tip of his nose but he pays them no mind.

Boss pursed his lips, "You can't keep this up. You'll collapse."

"I don't have a choice."

"Then find a compromise."

Akira looked up from his cup. Absentmindedly, he reached up to adjust his fogged-up glasses from where they had slid down and met Boss's eyes.

He hated fighting with Sojiro; he really did. The man was more like a father to him than his real, blood father was.

"The deadline was drawing closer. We can't afford to do so," Akira replied, but even to his ears, his words sounded more like he was trying to convince himself rather than Sojiro. Hollow.

Empty.

Something passed fleetingly across Sojiro's eyes, something so fast he almost missed it. The man asked him gently, "Where's the cat?"

Akira lifted up the cover of his bag. Morgana's nestled inside, the gentle rise and fall of his friend's chest indicating his peaceful sleep.

Sojiro nodded, "Look, even Morgana's asleep." The agitation that had seemed to present in his voice a moment before had faded into a gentle fondness as he carefully lifted Morgana into his arms. Or perhaps the man had never been as angry as he'd perceived him to be.

Akira didn't respond.

Boss closed his eyes, "Alright, just promise me that you won't go out tonight. Do whatever you need to here."

Akira opened his mouth to protest, but the words died in his throat. What was there to say? There was a tightness around Sojiro's eyes that he had somehow missed on the way in. Boss had rarely shown his fatigue, always keeping a strong, vigilant presence, but in that moment he could see the toll of taking care of two kids with clarity.

"... Okay," Akira relented, "I won't."

And with that, he placed his cup gently onto the counter as he rose out of his chair. Sojiro carefully placed Morgana into his arms, and his feet took him up the wooden stairs to the attic that was his room.

The uncomfortable feeling of wading through humanity's innermost thoughts clung to his skin even now, but something else settled into his skin and soothed his worries.

Bone-deep exhaustion settling into his body and soul, Akira finally relaxed and slipped into a dreamless sleep.

—ζ—

**October 5**

"I saw something before. Right when we entered," Akira said, out of the blue.

It's been a couple of days after the event. The sky's a bright azure, and the sun shone brightly ahead. He thought that it would be a warm noon day, if not for the wind stealing the heat away.

His friends were a little startled at the abrupt start of conversation, but quickly realized what this was about.

"Do you remember what happened when we first entered?"

There's the sound of rustling clothes as his friends shift their postures ever so slightly, their guards rising and a seriousness overtaking the earlier carefreeness. His friends gave him nods as they collectively recalled the memory of Akira lagging behind, eyes fixed on the sky.

Somehow the notion that they hadn't forgotten made the words flow much easier.

"When it was taking me a little while to catch up," he spoke cautiously, taking his time to choose his words, "I think I saw something — someone — falling from the sky."

No, that wouldn't be accurate.

A person falling from the sky.

What a strange concept.

Looking back on it, that kind of scene seemed more and impossible. Rolling the concept over and over in his mind, the impossibility of such a thing really just led him to the conclusion that that cannot simply be described as "a person falling from the sky."

Such would be an understatement.

No, it was an angel. Wingless, falling, and lost, but still with beauty and not a single hint of disgrace.

An angel without wings.

He told them as such.

"Then… were they a shadow?" Akechi asked him, a hint of confusion showing in his creased brow.

Akira pondered that for a beat or two, considering the possibility. But the flashbulb memory of the glinting silver flashed through his mind with vivid clarity, and Akira understood that that was not the case.

"No, his eyes; they weren't gold. They were a bluish-grey," he said, addressing them all, "Not a single hint of gold."

"Not at all?"

"No," he cemented it.

"A wingless angel plummeting from the heavens; it must have been a sight to see. It was unfortunate that I did not witness such a spectacle," Yusuke muses in interest, a thoughtful look crossing his face as his curious eyes searched his friend.

"This was a point of concern, but that's not the issue, was it?" Haru spoke up, voice strong despite her previous quiet revere.

"No. It's not."

Futaba shot him a look. He returned it with just as much stubbornness as she had.

"I can't get the image of him falling out of my head," Akira finally said, "It's as if it was burned into my eyes."

No one knew how exactly to respond to that statement.

"It's strange, and I don't quite understand, but in a way it also made so much sense." He attempts to clarify, "That image stuck in my head."

He chuckled mirthlessly, "It just gave me a really strange feeling."

"A strange... feeling?" Makoto asked slowly. In the peripheral of his vision, he notices Makoto shifting in her seat, but he doesn't need to look to know he'll find her searching eyes boring into him.

Closing his eyes briefly, Akira turned to look out at the masses of people passing them by. They walk around them, absorbed in their own chatter, nameless and faceless as over.

"It's a feeling most similar to deja vu," he explained.

Akira paused, taking the time to further consider his words, "It's a little different. It's like I'm seeing myself in the mirror, but even after I've left my reflection behind, that sense of _familiarity_, for lack of a better word, still lingers."

Morgana furrows his brow, and murmurs "That's..."

"Concerning."

"Yes," he acknowledged simply.

"That's—yes. Why would you be able to… _empathize_ with such an event?" Ann took an audible step forward.

Ah.

Akira understood now. Their concern was not over the well-being of the falling man, but over _him_.

"Empathy was a strange way to put it," he said lightly. She leaned forward, posture imposing, and he leaned back, just a little. He's saved any further discomfort when Morgana spoke up.

"But the fact remains that you were relating to a person that was f_alling from the sky_."

Akira lifted his hands to his face and kneaded the bridge of his nose, "Look, it's nothing bad. I promise you. There wasn't a bit of maliciousness in the feeling."

"It's just," he fumbled for the correct words.

"Terribly nostalgic."

Hearing this, they all fell silent. There were no words to be said about the feeling that settles between them all. The silence that blankets them all was tense but strangely, not uncomfortable.

Akira thought that he shouldn't be feeling so at ease with this.

"What interests me, however, was the usage of a mirror as a metaphor," Yusuke said softly.

"Eh?"

"Usually a mirror implies that left and right reversed, but that wasn't the case here, if I am understanding correctly," he continued.

"It's being flipped."

Akira blinked, "...I'm not sure what you mean." He doesn't think the others were either, because they're all listening to Yusuke as intently as he was.

Yusuke leaned back in his seat, tilting his head to look up into the blue sky.

"This may be far-fetched, but a mirror doesn't just reverse does it? It flips as well."

Akira doesn't understand. Is there a difference? Saying that something was being reversed was essentially the same as saying that it was being flipped.

He asked him that.

Yusuke considered that for a bit and said slowly, "A mirror had always been a tool for reflecting reality."

"'Regarding the scenery, that might very well be the case, but not with personalities,' I believe was the direct quote," he's curled back into himself, posture giving off the impression of contemplation.

"When you saw that man, I believe that feeling was because what you saw wasn't who the man was externally, but who he was internally. And what you saw there was a reflection of yourself, at least in the most fundamental aspects," he explained.

"That's the difference."

Silence hung in the air as Yusuke's words registered in their heads. It's a strange idea, but it made sense.

"We've always been wondering about this. The possibility that there was another like Akira out there," Yusuke broke the silence lightly, "After all, we can't possibly be the only persona users in the world."

"Alright." Ryuji interjected, "Maybe that's part of it — maybe it's not — but let's think about that later. What did he look like?"

That scene flashed in his mind's eye yet again. The memory of royal blue locks fluttering in the air was still vivid. Blinking, Akira answered him, "The man had dark blue hair. A bit like Yusuke's, but several shades lighter."

"Blue?" Haru said, "That color of hair was uncommon. That'll narrow down the candidates."

Futaba hummed, "Maybe he's related to the Detective Prince? I'll have to look into it." Akira quietly sends a thankful look over her way.

"Akechi?" Ryuji had a quizzical expression on his face.

"No," Ann lightly smacked Ryuji's arm.

"Shirogane Naoto. The original Detective Prince," she laughed, "You don't check the news, do you?"

Ryuji looked affronted, "I do! I just don't care about any of that stuff."

"Oh? I can't believe it. You finally started watching TV," Ann hid a smile behind her hand at the sight of Ryuji squawking in protest.

Makoto ignored the two behind her in favor of returning to the main topic. "Shirogane... That's a name I haven't heard in a while."

"Did something happen?"

Makoto shook her head, "Not particularly. Information about her was pretty limited, actually. I do however remember hearing that she transferred to a smaller precinct some years back." She furrowed her brow, "It was a little strange though. I expected her to stay with her team given her success with the Inaba murder case."

"That's interesting," Akira remarked, "Anyhow, it's worth looking into. Futaba, do you mind?"

"Nope," she replied, popping the p, "I'm gunna get to it the moment we get back."

"I'll try to ask my sister and see if she knows anything," Makoto said.

"Would you like me to help?" Akechi spoke up, "I could ask around the precinct. Considering who I am, it wouldn't be strange if I went around asking about my predecessor.

Akira took a moment to think it over. Having someone in law enforcement would certainly be a great help, but he couldn't trust him. As much as he wants to place his faith in Akechi, logically, he knows that despite everything, they were still enemies.

"No," Akira said after a while, "We don't have any evidence that she's related. I don't think we should look that deep until we're sure."

"This applies to you too," He addressed Ann and Ryuji. They look vaguely disappointed, but don't comment on it. Akira turns to Makoto, "Are you sure you were okay with searching with how your home situation was right now?

"Yes," she said confidently, "I could handle it. I think it'll be fine if I just bring it up as idle conversation."

"Back to Blue — did he wear anything that might give away who he was? Like a suit, a school uniform, or something?" Ann's hands gestured in the air as she asked.

His cheeks turned a light red, "Yeah um, about that."

Futaba gave him a weird look, "Yeah? What about his clothes?"

"He wasn't wearing anything."

It came out a little sheepishly, but Akira was relieved to find that his embarrassment had spread and his face was not the only one coloring.

Calm as ever, Haru set them back on track, "This made things a bit harder. What would you guess his age to be?"

"I'm not sure, actually," Akira frowned, " Physically, he's shorter than me, so I would say that he's not an adult. But his aura was very mature, and it felt less like seeing an equal and more like—"

"Like?" Akechi probed.

Akira hesitated, "It was like being around a teacher. Not just an adult — someone who knows a lot more than I do." He flushed a little, "It was a little imposing, really."

"Well, he fell from the sky in the Metaverse right?" Ryuji suddenly spoke. His friend had been a bit quiet now that he thought about it.

Ryuji continued, "Then it shouldn't really be surprising if what he felt was different from what we see."

Akira nodded, "That could be true." Akira turned Ryuji's words over and over in his head. It made sense. If he'd appeared in the Metaverse, what he saw may not necessarily be the truth. It was at times like these that he truly appreciated Ryuji's silent but keen perception.

"If that's the case, then we really haven't gotten anywhere," Yusuke stated. The thought that this was possible hurts, but Akira acknowledged it as the truth.

Still, they had a possible, if tenuous lead to Blue's identity.

He told them that.

"I suppose we could only place our faith in Sakura-san then," Akechi said in response. "Shall we retire for today? It's getting late now, and I have work tomorrow. I'm sure you all have school as well."

Akira looked up at the sky and realized that he's right. They've been talking for some hours now and with the sun setting earlier as autumn set in, the sky had darkened into a warm orange.

Makoto nodded, "Then let's meet at the cafe tomorrow after school. When's the next time we'll go to Mementos?"

Akira took a second to think about it, "The day after tomorrow. Let's take a day to rest." They all seemed to agree on that.

"Man, things were getting strange, eh?" Ryuji stood up and stretched. "With Kasumi, that strange Palace and now this."

"That's to be expected, Ryuji-kun." Haru smiled, "We're bound to see strange things. After all, we're the Phantom Thieves."

"That's true."

With some laughter, the group of friends split up, each leaving for home.

"I'll see you tomorrow." Akira turned around one last time to see Akechi giving him a small wave. Almost awkwardly, he gave a wave of his own in return. "You too."

* * *

In the game of chess, prophylaxis (Greek προφυλαξις, "prophylaxis," guarding or preventing beforehand) or a prophylactic move is a move that stops the opponent from taking action in a certain area for fear of some type of reprisal. Prophylactic moves are aimed at not just improving one's position, but preventing the opponent from improving their own.

-Hooper, David; Whyld, Kenneth (1992), The Oxford Companion to Chess (2nd ed.), Oxford University Press


	2. II - Initiation

_"The awful thing was that beauty was mysterious as well as terrible. God and the devil are fighting there and the battlefield was the heart of man."_

_― Fyodor Dostoevsky, The Brothers Karamazov_

* * *

**October 7th**

The circumstances this time around were much, much more different than their previous encounter, but still just as puzzling.

An explosion went off near Akira — too close too close — shaking the walls of the tunnel. Dust bloomed in the air from the force of it and it feels as if the place would come crashing down, but logically, Akira knew that it wouldn't. He didn't think that anything made out of humanity's unconsciousness would crumble with any sort of ease.

… He might be wrong though. The insistent ringing in his ears made it hard to be a clear judge.

No matter. Akira cartwheeled around the Dakini that was Oda Hanae's shadow, his gun flashing brightly in his hand. Mid-turn, a One-Shot Kill bullet whistles by his ear, missing him by a narrow margin. He gritted his teeth in annoyance as he swung his arm forward, ferociously returning fire.

His shots found their mark successfully. Akira landed with a grin as he watched the shadow flinch backwards. It's not deterred however, as it recovers quickly. A tell-tale glow surrounds it as the Shadow roars its fury — it's gathering its strength.

It's with opportunate timing that Oracle finished her scan. Over the intercom, Akira could hear her shout, "Everyone! It's weak to fire!" Sweat gathered on her forehead as she cast a Matarukaja spell. Near instantaneously, the burn of exhausted muscles was lifted, albeit temporarily, as the spell rejuvenates them. Underneath his skin, Akira felt his power purr in exhilaration.

Their reinvigoration saved them. Before the shadow could strike, Joker and Ann took advantage of its vulnerable position. With a coordination born only from endless hours fighting side-by-side on the battlefield, they took it down fashionably. An electric stun, a backflip over the agidyne spell he had bought time for Ann to charge up, and the shadow collapses in a heap. Screeching in pain, the Dakini clawed wildly at it's face, desperate to quell Ann's scorching white flames.

Without even a second spared, the Phantom Thieves collectively tear into their opponent. With a despairing cry, it reverted back into the form of Oda Hanae. She collapsed to her knees, head hanging low in shame and defeat.

"I— I lost?!" She looked at her hands. "That can't be… Everything will be taken away from me again!"

Tears drip down her face. "What the hell am I supposed to do…?" Akira looked down at her. For some reason, he can't help but find her pitiful. This woman who had been constricting his friend for so long all because of her own insecurities. He crouches down so that they are face to face. "You have your son, don't you?"

"Even so, even so I—" She wiped at the corner of her eye. "I was terrible."

"That may be so." He dipped his head sideways. "But that doesn't mean that that can't change."

"Here." In his hand, a picture of a radiant child. "Look."

She did, and the sobbing quieted. "You're right," she finally said, fist unfastening. "This entire time, I've already had the greatest happiness. How was I so blind?"

"Oda-san."

She lifted her head.

"You care for your son, don't you?" She nodded. "Learn from your mistakes. Change so that you could make up for everything." He held out his hand.

"Yes…" she took it and they stood together. Oda composed herself and gave him a strange look, "You're so young, yet you know exactly what to say."

"Kurusu-san… could it be that you could understand because you were in Shinya's position?"

"…"

"I'm sorry, that was rude of me. One last thing. Tell him that I'm sorry for me," she whispered. "Please."

"You could tell him yourself." She gave a minute nod before she fades away. A single soma dropped into his hands.

Akira took a moment to cradle it in his hands before pocketing it. With a sigh, he stood and turned to look at the team. He said, "That's the last of the requests."

"Are we going back now?" Morgana asked.

"Sure," Joker smiled. "We're a little short on money and items, though, so we'll take the long way around."

"You got it."

Joker stepped back in line with his teammates as they watched the Monabus appear.

"You okay?" Ann asked him. Holding her hands behind her, she leaned forward to look at him.

"Mhm. Why?"

"You looked a little uncomfortable back there," Akechi said.

One by one, his friends file into the Bus. Akira himself climbs into the driver's seat. "Was I?"

"Yeah," Ryuji poked his head into the space between the two front seats. "What were you talking about?"

"Nothing much."

Makoto's eyes flicker over to him, "Really?" Darkness covered them briefly as they left the area.

Akira sighed, "Yes. It's really not a big deal. Nothing like a few days back." He turns his head for a moment to look her in the eye. "Besides, I told you guys about it in the end, didn't I?" He gave a smile. "If it really was anything you'd know about it in time."

She huffed a bit. "Alright. Now put your eyes back on the road."

"Yes, ma'am," he breathed through the mirth bubbling in his gut. When he turned his head forward, though, he saw Haru looking dumbfoundedly out the window from the rearview mirror.

"Haru?"

She doesn't reply.

This time Joker doesn't settle for just a glance at the mirror. There's no mistake. One hand pressed against the window pane, Haru was looking out at something with what was almost an expression of awe. He called again, "Haru?"

At this point the other Thieves have taken notice. Yusuke placed a hand on her shoulder and gently shook her.

"Akira-kun, could you please stop the Bus?"

"Yeah—" he pulled them to a stop. "Is something wrong?"

"Maybe I was imagining it, but that intersection back there wasn't there before, was it?" she said. "I thought it could have been something that opened up after the last Palace that we overlooked, but we pass through here so often that that can't be."

He wasn't really paying attention when they were passing by earlier, but she's right. They did pass an intersection earlier when it should have just been a straight path. Then almost on a whim - the gear was shifted into reverse. "Let's go take a look."

The Thieves all followed Haru's line of sight as the Bus retraces its steps. Sure enough, the tunnel branches off. And at the end of the branch, a half open broken metal gate stands ominously.

One by one, the Thieves exited the Bus.

Joker carefully observed the crisscross of chains still attempting to hold the double doors closed. Based on the damage patterns, it didn't really seem like anything had hit it per se. More like the chains had loosened and the doors rusted with time.

"Oracle," he started. "About how long do you think we have?"

She fiddled with her holographic monitors a bit. "We haven't been in the section long, so 10 minutes, give or take."

He put a hand under his chin and furrowed his eyebrows. "…"

"Hey Akira…" Ryuji said suddenly. "You're not saying that we should go in there, are you?"

He didn't reply.

His friend turned to him. "You can't be serious."

Joker tipped his head a little in apology.

"Nuh-uh. That thing screams 'bad idea.'" Ryuji crossed his arms.

"I'm inclined to agree," Akechi said. "It looks harrowing." Ryuji looked at him in surprise, but took it in stride. "See! Even Akechi thinks that we shouldn't go in."

"However, I think it is, at the very least, worth checking out," Crow drew his laser saber from his sheath. "Better now than later, when it could disappear." Ryuji threw his hands up.

Akira gave Akechi a small nod before turning to the others, "And what about you guys?"

"I'll follow you, Joker," Yusuke asserted. At his side, Mona, having returned to his smaller form, said, "So will I." Makoto made a hum of agreement. Ann draped her hand around Ryuji's shoulders and grins. "Us too. Right Ryu- Skull?"

"Ah damn, I get it, I get it," he protested her manhandling and squirmed out under hold. "Me too." he scratched the back of his neck.

Together, they cautiously approached the gate, guard rising with every step. Up close, Joker could make out the intricate, if old, filigree delicately framing the elaborate panels. What appeared to be chains from afar also turned out to be metal vines so lifelike that he would have mistaken it for real if not for the metallic glint.

"It's beautiful," he heard Yusuke softly say. Akira doesn't voice it, but he agreed. And if he was reading his teammates correctly, they share the same sentiment.

Dauntingly beautiful.

Slowly, Akira stepped closer to the blackness beyond the doors. The sound echoed around the chamber with every footstep. Breath hitched, Joker reached out and led them across the threshold.

Akin to a flame being lit, a dim light bloomed into existence.

"Is this… a train station?" Crow asked. His words were quiet, yet the sound travels swiftly across the expansive area. In front of them, a large hall stretched endlessly out from a circular chamber. Save for the glowing blue clock face etched into the chamber floor, nothing appeared to be more than the regular irregularities one might find in the Metaverse.

They gripped their weapons and creeped forward, footsteps thunderous in its juxtaposition with the surrounding stillness.

_Tap_.

"This was strange," Oracle looked down at her holographic map as they made their way around the clock face. "I can't map out the area. I can't sense a single shadow around either."

"…" He quickened his stride ever so slightly.

_Tap. Tap._

Together, they approach that cavernous darkness. One step in front of the other, their advance feels nothing more than a slow crawl in the expanse of the area. Yet at last they arrive at 12 o'clock, staring at the seemingly endless pillars. As if the place itself was welcoming them in, a wave of rich blue cascades outward. Desolated black was replaced by harmonious azure.

Looking at that scenery closer now, he found what must be a train station increasingly akin to a cathedral. The long arches. The stained glass. Only the signs — labeled with unintelligible characters — gave the impression of an active hub.

A sudden, intense dread struck Akira. It wasn't as if he hadn't been feeling consternation; he had. But in that moment that feeling of caution had amplified exponentially. What was it? Was it the darkness that had only been warded away by their approach? Or was it something else? He regrets his earlier haste. Not only were they not at their peak due to previous battles, but they did not prepare themselves for venturing into new territory.

"We should leave." Akira tightened his hold on his knife. It feels as if their earlier confidence had been seeped away by the eerily quiet aura of this place. "Better to be safe than sorry." At his sides, there was the feeling of mutual agreement.

_Tap tap tap tap tap_

"Akira."

A bright red dot appears on Futaba's radar.

"Something's comi—

The sound of rattling chains was _piercing_. Joker reacted purely on instinct, grabbing those closest to the end of the hall and pulling them all back. In just the nick of time too, for a bullet takes off a part of his bangs.

"Retreat!" He yelled. The order was redundant; everyone's already broken into a sprint.

"That can't be!" Futaba gasped. "We should still have time!"

"It doesn't matter now," Akira doesn't look back as he dashes around the clock face back to where they came from. He scans the pillars for any sign of the gate. Where was it, where was it, where was it?

"Wha…?"

Akira almost stumbled when he saw that long hall once more. He risked a quick look behind him. Where there previously was an opening lies nothing more than inconspicuous concrete.

"The gate…" His steps faltered. "It's gone." Eyes wide, he's frozen at that realization.

"Ak— Joker!" Crow reached out and pulled him back by the arm. With his other hand, he swung it forward and activates a tetrakarn spell. Before them, a translucent shield shimmers into existence just before a bullet slams into it. They're pushed back by the force, but mostly unfazed.

"Go!" From the side, Ryuji jumped in and shoved them towards the hall. "I'll hold him off."

"Wait! What about you?!"

Ryuji doesn't respond to that and instead opted to summon Seiten Taisei to block a blow, the clang of a bullet hitting metal ringing clear. He thrusted his hand forward, tell-tale crackle of a ziodyne dancing around it. The attack missed, however, and Skull's forced on the defensive.

Activating High Counter, Joker roundhouse kicked one of the Reaper's bullets back at it and pushed Ryuji out of the way of the follow-up. Skull took the opportunity to draw Seiten Taisen back, leaving only a ghostly shape around his arm. Nyoi Bo appeared within his grip and he slammed it into the side of the Reaper.

"Don't think that I can't take this dude! Watch, I'll be right with you before you know it!" The expression on Ryuji's face could only be described as determinant.

"But—"

"No buts, just go!"

He hesitated.

"No." Yusuke materialized at their side. "We don't leave anyone behind." Hefting his assault rifle over his shoulder, he unleashes a volley of bullets at the Reaper's head. Behind him, the rest of the Thieves follow suit.

Unfortunately, all that served to do was momentarily distract it. When the magazine was emptied and he had to reload, Yusuke frowned as he was forced to jump back. The ground he previously occupied was scorched by a agidyne.

Just as quickly, however, Haru slipped in from below and swung her battleaxe in a graceful curve, the serrated edge of her blade mercilessly tearing through the flesh of her opponent. She called out, "Mako-chan!"

Swooping in from behind her, Makoto seared the wound with nuclear energy, irradiating the flesh and blood at the cost of cauterizing the gash. It wouldn't bleed, but at the very least, it'll hinder the Reaper's internal systems.

The towering black figure has only a snarl of irritation and a Vorpal Blade as a response.

Akira leapt back to avoid the attack. In a flash, however, a metallic glint, the rattling of chains, and then _pain_ encompasses his senses. His head was knocked up from the force, blood spurting out of his mouth. He fell backwards, only managing to glimpse the gun — ah that was what hit him, he thought — swinging back around and headed for him. Dazed by the blow, he could only think of bringing his arms up and bracing for impact.

The impact never came.

Smack on his back and only just regaining his senses, the only thing Akira could do was turn his head to the sound of metal upon metal.

At his side was a figure clad in pure white and glittering gold, shining feathered blade entangling coils of black. Like a prince come to rescue a princess in a fairy tale, a blue cape fluttered around the elegant form of his defender.

"Go..ro..?"

The boy in question spared only a glance before he's forced to face the black monstrosity again. Belatedly, Akira realized that the blow that would have taken off at least an arm had been redirected into the now crumbling pillar far behind him. The gun was still embedded deep within the stone, and the inky coils bound around Akechi's laser saber was but the Reaper's chains, still attached to the firearm and help in the vice of that monster.

Distracted by the sight, he was surprised when he finally noticed Morgana. "Mo..r.." came the croak. His friend shushed him and cast Diarahan on him.

Their opponent roared and let loose the other gun, which crashes into the adjacent wall. The Reaper dragged the chain into granite, building up tension.

"Oh no you don't!" Ann lashed out with her whip, catching the chain at just the position and force to detach the gun from the wall and send it right back into the face of the Reaper. It's own weapon slices upwards in a diagonal, leaving a gash in that bloody burlap sack of a head it has.

As the others fend off the Reaper's attacks, Akechi helped Akira to his feet. "Are you all right?"

Concussion fading, he said, "Yeah, thanks."

In that instant, Makoto jumped out of the fight to ask him: "Do you have a Goho-M? We gotta get out of here now."

Akira shook his head. It was unfortunate, truly, that he's run out, and that he didn't have enough materials to make more. It was part of the reason why he was down here today. Again, he cursed his terrible judgement. He shouldn't have put them in such a situation.

He shouldn't have put them in such a situation.

"The entrance's gone." He shifted his weight and stood more properly. "The only choice we've got is to go further in."

He pulled out his gun and released the empty magazine. In a swift movement, he reloaded and aimed. "Mona, get ready. Crow, Queen get everyone into the Bus. Oracle, you know what to do. I'll provide cover. On three?"

At the round of nods that he saw, Joker started:

"One."

They all readied their weapons.

"Two."

Knees bent, weapons gripped.

"Three!"

The spring was released.

Eyes still fixed forward, Joker picked up Morgana with one hand and tossed him into the air. From his sides, his friends dashed forward. Their weapons tore into the Reaper simultaneously. Ease in falling in line. A gash. Breaking of bone. Burning of flesh. A spray of bullets. They were but a blur of colors as they all attacked with all their might. Hazed by the sudden onslaught, there was enough time for everyone to scramble into the Bus.

Heart pounding a thousand miles an hour, Akira gripped the steering wheel. He braced himself for a brief second, and then he slammed down on the pedal.

It didn't quite matter whether there were shadows hiding within the halls of the train station; he plowed through them with reckless abandon. Regardless of where he was, it was surely better than facing the Reaper. From her place above the Monabus, Oracle pushed her senses to their limit and gave them a stream of directions. "Right here, then 10 meters ahead, the far left."

Joker followed her directions unhesitatingly. The Phantom Thieves held onto the inside of the Bus with white-knuckled fists as the Bus sped through the paths, twisting and turning around corners. He jerks the wheel, and they've successfully turned yet again, without wasting a second of time.

They enter a large room billowing with dust. A cursory glance here and there tells him it's somehow more ornate than the halls he's passed through, but he doesn't pay much mind until suddenly—

The wheel itself jerks out of his hands. The Bus swerves around something quickly, much too quickly. They've lost their holding on the ground.. Mid-flight, Mona reverts back into his smaller form and they're all scattered around in different directions, be it into a wall, a column, or the floor.

"Nngh!" His fall was softened by a roll, but the impact hit hard nonetheless. Coughing, Akira swiped his arm through the dust and struggled to his feet. A single hand found the soma he had gotten earlier and he activated it. Instantly, his friends' wounds heal and their energy replenishes.

"Ugh…" Makoto clutched her head. "What the hell happened?"

"I don't know," he said honestly. "The wheel moved by itself." He stared down at his hands. The feel of leather tearing out of them still lingered.

"What?" Haru coughed. "Mona-chan?"

No response. They peered through the dust, looking for their friend.

"Morgana!" Ann called out. She swept her hands around, trying to clear the air. "Morgana!"

Still nothing.

"Futaba —" He's cut shot by the sight of her. She's hilariously stuck in a column. One foot still in Prometheus, she's kicking the white stone in hopes of dislodging herself. "Come on!" Annoyed by her lack of progress, Futaba charged up a laser and shot it point blank. She came loose, like she hoped, but not before crashing into the ground. The dust is kicked up and billowed away.

"You okay?!" Ryuji shouted. There's silence, and then a single thumbs up sticking out.

They all let out a breath of relief.

From the side, they heard a faint groan. They rushed through the fading dust in the direction of the sound and there Morgana was. Their friend sat up, looking like he was dizzy.

"Morgana?" Yusuke asked.

"Mmn?" Morgana blinked and then rubbed his eyes. For a second, Akira thought he saw a glimpse of gold. Akechi knelt down in front of him. "Are you okay?" Again, it seemed like Morgana wasn't really hearing him, but then he yawned a bit, and said: "Hn? Yeah."

Akira opened his mouth to ask him about his eyes, but he's beaten to the punch.

"Woah… what happened?" Morgana asked.

"That's what we were going to ask you," Makoto said.

"Huh?"

"When we were driving before, the wheel suddenly moved by itself and we swerved," Akira explained. "Were— were you the one who moved?"

"Hnnnnn…" Morgana tilted his head this way and that way. He narrowed his eyes and said: "Are you sure you didn't just lose grip of the wheel?"

He shook his head no. "I'm sure of it."

Morgana's tail drooped. Brushing himself off, he stood up, and then he placed his hand under his chin. Ears flat against his head he seemed to be thinking. "Well… I do have a vague memory of something."

"Something?"

"Yeah," he said. "We were driving and then… a sense. No, an urge… An urge to dodge?" He shook his head. "I don't know. I know that I just felt like I had to move out of the way."

"That's quite strange," Yusuke commented. "It seems as if many curious things have been happening lately."

"Well, at the very least, it doesn't seem like anyone is harmed." Makoto smiled. "It looks like the Reaper isn't after us anymore either."

"Indeed."

"By the way, what did we swerve around?" Ann messed with the end of her pigtail. "We should go check."

"Sure." They all walked towards the center of the room. Onn closer look now, Akira could see that what decorated the floor of the room wasn't quite dust, but fog. In the very center, despite their efforts, a fog still gathered around, curiously enough. Morgana sent out a gust of wind, yet the fog still did not dissipate. Akira squinted his eyes and peered in. Vaguely, ever so vaguely, he made out the pale form of a person.

"There's someone there," he said. "A man, I think."

"Could it be—"

"Maybe."

Taking a breath, he walked into the lingering fog. His hands reached down — around what he hoped was a waist — and lifted up.

Instantly, the fog dissolved into the air.

Looking down into his arms, was the naked form of who must surely be the falling man he saw some days prior. Even if he had only a brief glimpse of the features of that falling man, even if 5 days have passed since and he should have forgotten, he knew certainly that whoever this was was the very same. He could not mistake that eerie feeling of looking into a mirror and seeing the form of who was yourself, yet not quite so.

In that moment, everyone's eyes were trained intently on the blue-haired man laying in Akira's arms. Not at the world unfurling around them. Not at their displacement to the entrance of Mementos somehow.

Like a black hole sucking in all light, he enraptured them.

Akira swallowed the lump in his throat. "We should take him back."

—ζ—

There were many times Akira couldn't express fully in words how grateful he was for Sojiro. For helping without needing to ask, for being supportive despite knowing they were the Phantom Thieves, for being _there_.

This was one of those times.

Sojiro crossed his arms across his chest. His eyes went from the covered form of the sleeping man on his couch to the Phantom Thieves, and then back again and again. Despite his sitting position, despite the lack of words, his sheer aura demanded they explain.

For a second, no one moved. Frozen, they stood in silence under that patient gaze. Having burst in with such little notice, hauling the body of a suspicious man, it was understandable that Boss would have such a reaction.

Out of them all, it was Ryuji who spoke first.

"A few days ago, when we were in Mementos, 'Kira saw this man falling from the sky," he said. And just like that, the tension fizzed out and the Thieves could speak again.

"The collective unconsciousness."

"Yeah," Ryuji nodded. "We found him today in a strange area."

"Strange area?" Sojiro shifted in his seat and narrowed his eyes.

"I-It's just a place we haven't been to before. Nothing to worry about." Makoto waved her hands in the air. "Anyways, while we were exploring, we found him all there all alone.

Sojiro raised an eyebrow, "And he was just laying there. Naked."

Akira just shrugged. What else was there to say?

"We don't know his identity, but considering where we found him, we decided that the best course of action would be to bring him here," Akechi calmly said. The others nodded.

He's given a look, and then that gaze flickers between each and every one of them there. Sojiro closed his eyes and ran a hand through his hair, "You kids…"

He stood up and left the room. A moment later, he returned with a blanket thicker than the one the Thieves had hastily thrown over the man and a set of clean clothes. Sojiro threw the blanket over the man and set the clothes on a nearby stool.

Boss turned back towards the Thieves, who had been silently watching him.

"I'll take things from here." he sighed and placed his hands on his hips. "Go on home now, before you miss the last train." Without waiting for a response, he looked back at the unconscious man and rubbed the back of his neck.

"You're… not going to ask?" Yusuke asked.

"What is there to ask?" came the reply. "It doesn't look like you kids have answers anyways, so what's the point?"

"I see."

"Well, thanks Boss." Ann waved. "We'll be going now." She grabbed Ryuji's arm. "Com'on!"

"E-eh?" He's wideyed.

"Us as well," Haru gave a little bow. "Let's go, Mako-chan."

"I will see you all in the morn." Yusuke tipped his head.

"Stay safe, you kids." The corners of Boss's lips quirk up.

"You got it!"

One by one, Akira's friends left the home. Akira, however, lingered near the doorway and looked back.

"Well?"

"I'm sorry, Boss." He shifted his feet and looked away.

"For what?"

"For being such a bother."

Sojiro scoffed fondly, "If that bothers me, I would have kicked you out long ago."

"Go on, now, shoo."

"Alright." Akira took one step out the doorway into the humid night with a smile.

"Close up shop for me, kid! My age has been catching up to me; I forgot about it."

Akira sent back a nonchalant wave.

—ζ—

The taste of ash. The shaking blurring the world before and behind his eyes. Swirling and shuddering in it's immoral agony. Akira nearly let a plate slip from his fingers.

It's not like he hasn't tried; truly, he tried. He's come home earlier and he's even weaned off some of his job workload… was what he'd like to say. In actuality, he's only managed to come home _later_ most days. Many times he did have the fortune of coming home earlier than usual — but obviously not late enough that he'd escape having to do the dishes.

Akira got the feeling that that's Sojiro's way of grounding him.

Today he was supposed to be on dishwashing duty, but with the unexpected encounter with the Reaper and the mysterious man, it was evident from Sojiro's dismissal that he was to close up shop and go straight to bed.

That's what he's _supposed_ to be doing.

Instead, Akira's elbow-deep in soapy water, numbing his brain with the lull of repetitive motion.

"Do you need a hand?"

Akira jumped a little from his position at the sink. He'd forgotten that Akechi was still there, having followed him back to the cafe to supposedly pick up some things he had left in the attic earlier that day. Akira bets that his teammate was only there to send him to bed. Personally, he thought one Morgana was enough for a lifetime. He doesn't need a second.

He sighed and relented without so much as a word. Whether Akira wanted help or not, Akechi would probably provide it anyways, stubborn prick.

Akechi squeezed into his right, hands slipping on another pair of gloves and dipping them in alongside his. The feeling of the warmth of skin permeating his shirt pressed insistently against his side.

Akira was begrudged to admit that having Akechi there might be the much-needed distraction he's been looking for.

An uncomfortable silence filled with the slosh of soapy water and dishes clinking stretches for a tense couple of minutes. The usually indiscernible sound of the clock ticking was incredibly loud. His companion gave no outward indication of the kind-of physical contact they're sharing nor of Akira's increasing discomfort.

It's only when the silence seemed near unbearable that either of them decided to speak.

"Kurusu—"

"Akechi—"

They both started speaking at the same time. Akira flustered, gloves hands flinging water everywhere as he waves them embarrassedly through the air. Even worse, he ended up lathering the side of his face with soap when he didn't think and just brought his hand up to fiddle with his hair. Fantastic. Akechi, on the other hand, was somehow still composed despite appearing to have too been put off guard. Which. How?

Akechi, being as chivalrous as always, let him speak first even though Akira was -fervently- _politely_ gesturing for Akechi to do so first. With yet another sigh, Akira gave in.

"Shouldn't you be leaving now? At this rate, you're going to miss the last train," Akira mumbled.

Akechi lifted his hands out of the water and leaned against the counter to look at Akira. His eyes didn't move from him, and a deceptively easy expression settled onto his face. Akira turned to face him as well, and thought for the nth time that he's never sure of what Akechi's thinking.

"It's fine. I don't have much work tomorrow." He added, "And besides, I want to talk."

"Go ahead," he shrugged in reply. Akira doesn't say that it's fine as long as he doesn't have to reply. The moment he's finished closing up shop he resolves to high-tail it to the bath house and wash away his worries.

Akechi's head appeared suddenly next to his face. _Jesus Christ how was he doing that_. He resisted the urge to jump and forced his face to stay still, determined not to let his discomfort show.

"I said, I want to talk," he said, smile stretched over his face. The asshole pushed himself into his personal space and Akira's forced to lean away.

"And I said, _go right ahead_," Akira lifted up the plate he's washing and shoved it between them. He'll never get past his Plate Shield. To his pleasure, Akechi seemed to realize the impenetrability of the Plate Shield, and retreats.

"Let me rephrase." Akechi straightened up. "I want to talk with you."

Akira ignored him and shoved his plate back under the tap. Can't be wasting water and increasing the water bill because he was too busy talking to Akechi, right? Sojiro'll kill him.

"Kurusu-san."

_Tick._

"Ne, Kurusu-kun," the persistent voice nagged.

_Tick._

"Kurusu Akira-kun."

Somehow, someway, Akira found Akechi's face exceedingly close to his own again. And even though Akira was faced towards the sink not a moment before, he's once more turned towards his friend.

His enemy, Akira amended in his mind. Not his friend.

Akira's face was cloaked in shadow, his enemy's superior height blocking the overcast light from reaching Akira's face. Akechi was so close that their noses almost touch and they breathe the same breath.

Off to the side, Akira could hear the sound of the tap running relentlessly.

_Tick._

Akira pulled away first.

"About what?" he feigned ignorance. He shoved his hands back into the watery mess, ears turning red with the belated realization that he's given an actual reply.

"You know what," Akechi's eyes peered out at him behind half-lids. They bore into Akira with a relentlessness Akira thought was unbefitting of irises with such a warm color.

Akira wanted to go and counter with a gaze just as solid, but in the end he settled for lifting his head up and staring out dispassionately. He tilted it off to the side, almost as if in contemplation, before stating flatly, "Do I now."

It comes out more cheeky than Akira had intended, he's willing to admit. Nonetheless, the feeling of triumph simmers in his gut when out of the corner of his eye, he saw Akechi's features finally lose their stony quality. Something almost akin to smugness also rose when a crease appears at the bridge of his nose ever so slightly.

Akira struggled to contain his smile as he watched the other's impatience make its mark.

Akechi looked at him a bit more before his face smooths over again and he let out a soft sigh. He lifted his apron off his shoulders and handed it to Akira.

"'Kun,' eh?" Akira gave up on hiding his mirth. He's seeing more than just an apron in front of him and readily reaches out to grab it.

"Hmm?"

"You've never addressed me like that before. 'Kurusu-kun,' you said," Akira explained.

"Does that offend you?" Akechi lifted his head away.

"No."

This time, the silence that stretches between them was comfortable. Quietly, almost discreetly so, the hand strikes 12.

"Ah, I missed the last train," Akechi commented. Melodramatic as ever, he let out a remorseful sigh. Akira feels more than a little smug. "I told you so."

"So you did," Akechi went blank-faced and looked away. "But!" He abruptly spins on his heel to face Akira once more and jabs a finger in his face. "Only someone like you would be proud of being right about something as trivial as knowing when the trains stop!"

"Wha…?" Akira was appalled. "I'm not proud of something as trivial as knowing when the trains stop! Such knowledge was common." He recomposes himself.

"Obviously not," Akechi frowned. "As esteemed as I am, there's no way I could have forgotten when my usual train line stops."

Akira sighed, "Which line do you take?"

"Ginza."

"Ginza? Where do you live?" Akira couldn't help asking. He pulled off his own apron and hung it on a hook before leaning back on the counter.

Akechi seemed to hesitate for a second, taken aback by Akira's forwardness, before replying. "Asakusa." He looked a little sheepish.

"Asakusa?!" Akira asked incredulously. "That's an hour away by train!" Akechi didn't respond. "Anyways, the Ginza Line stops at 12. Don't forget it next time."

"Assuming that I forgot it in the first place."

Akira paused and looked right at him. "Could it just be that you're an idiot?"

"Please don't use such distasteful words towards me. I might get offended."

Akira sighed.

"In any case…" Akechi seemed to allow himself a small grimace. "You wouldn't mind if I stayed the night, would you?"

"Eh?"

"This isn't to say that I would want to stay over. It's just that I embarrassingly have nowhere else to go." His friend crossed his arms and looked away.

"No." He deadpanned.

"What?" Akechi put a hand to his mouth and gave a little gasp. A most disappointed look was shot his way. "I can't believe it. You would deny a friend in need?"

"There's a motel just down the block!" He pointed his hand in the general direction.

"Ha?" His facial expression came close to a sneer. "That run-down place could barely be considered liveable. I'm not so desperate that I would stoop so low."

"Really now? I thought you already reached that when we were deciding on who would make the calling card." Akira hid his grin behind his sleeve. "The great detective prince, Akechi Goro, almost falling over himself to get the opportunity to make a card. How cute."

The normally very neat hair of one Akechi Goro became very not neat. He huffed, "That was different." He crossed his arms and looked away again.

"Different how?"

"I just. Never had the chance to do something like that before." He hunched his shoulders.

At that very moment, Akira couldn't hold his laughter in anymore. "That's why?" He laughed and laughed. "Oh…"

"Hey, don't laugh!" Akechi leaned in indignantly. Akira clutched his stomach and heaved for air. "I'm sorry… that's just…"

"What?!"

"That's adorable."

Somehow Akechi's hair became even more ruffled. He looked as if he wanted to say something, but no words came out. Akira settled down. "But seriously… you've never done something like this? What about projects and stuff?"

His friend shook his head. "I've always been so busy with work, I've never really been able to do arts and crafts. Maybe I did when I was young, but I can't remember."

"Well, at least you get to do something with Yusuke."

"Anyways…" Akechi recomposed himself and stared at Akira intently. "About the living accommodations…"

"Fine, fine," Akira relented. "Think I have a spare futon somewhere…" He rummaged through the closet.

"And now that we got that out of the way~" A grin stretched across his friend's face. "Shall we get back to a previous topic?"

"I'm not lending you my bed. Or my couch," he evaded.

"I'm not interested in taking your sleeping quarters. I'm interested in talking." Leaning into the counter, Akechi propped his chin up with his hand.

Akira wasn't interested.

"Thank you, but no thank you," he said.

"Keeping it to yourself isn't going to do much good," came the reply.

Akira puffed up his chest and placed a hand over his heart haughtily. "My couch is mine and mine alone. I won't let it be desecrated." He got a sideways glance at that, but after another moment of mutual glaring, he finally, finally, let the topic drop.

"You know…" Akechi took a seat in one of the booths. "I… I'm really grateful to have met you." The sudden change to a sensitive topic threw Akira off guard. His friend sat there, looking down at his fingers. "A month back — September 17th I believe — I bumped into you in Mementos. By some twist of fate, I met you."

"What a coincidence, right?" He laughed. "Sometimes I wonder what would have happened if I hadn't gone into Mementos that day. You — no, everyone — have been so good to me. You listened to my worries and gave me hope. I…"

"Thank you."

Those words were said with such terrible honesty. The turmoil in Akira's chest quickened and clamped down on his heart.

"That's why… That's why…!" Akechi lifted his head abruptly and their eyes met.

"I can wait."

* * *

Strikethrough doesn't exist here, so wherever something is like -example- (not — example — ), then that denotes strikethrough. This was originally written in present tense so if there are any mistakes I apologize.


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